These Dusty Roads
by Lee-bi
Summary: Bethany looked at the Black City, so far away. It managed to look even lonelier than she felt. "See, there." She gripped the demon's hand in hers suddenly and pointed. "That's me. That's how I've felt, every day, for the past year."


For dragonagedrabbles on Tumblr: Bethany Hawke / Desire Demon: not the first time, nor the last

* * *

It wasn't the first time Bethany had this dream.

In the distance, the Black City was waiting. She'd learned as a child that the city functioned as a center point for those who ventured in the Fade, the one constant in a world of dissonance. It was always unreachable, even if one marched directly toward it. Bethany never dared. It wasn't a place she'd ever wanted or felt need to visit, and according to the Chantry, it was a city for the Maker and his beloved alone.

Tonight, the Black City called more strongly to her than usual.

The Fade was like an unending maze. Many times, Bethany had navigated it. Usually her father or Carver accompanied her – and later, her mother, when Marian stopped writing – but for the first year after she'd contracted the taint she'd been very alone. The spirits of her family didn't walk with her like they used to; they lingered instead, and watched her go on in silence. She'd supposed it was because she was destined to die a different death. Or maybe because they only saw her as a shadow of herself, and the bond they'd once shared was severed by too much grief. Either way, she'd trekked across sandy shores she'd never seen and brushed by quiet spirits who's hearts she didn't know.

Demons that never would have reached for her with Carver's sharp sword and Malcolm's large hand around hers dared to touch her cheeks and whisper promises in her ears. They tried, often, to coax her into their arms. They fabricated her memories, pieces of home, images, objects, people - always unsuccessfully. She chased them away with magic running wild in the fuzzy haze of her fingertips.

It was only when the desire demons approached, when she realized how alone she was in her own dreams, that the vulnerability left her _wanting_.

Tonight, she walked the dusty roads of Lothering. It was fake dust, dream dust. It clung to her shoes like the charcoal from a banked fire, glittery but opaque.

The last time Bethany had ventured into the Fade, it had been during a venture through the mountains, through a deserted village destroyed during the Fifth Blight. The purpose of the visit involved rumors of a traveling warden having passed through the area. They'd discovered nothing during the day, but strange occurrences went on when the sun disappeared behind the mountains. She'd been on watch that night, holding the torch, searching the shadows for things hidden by the light. There were whispers, sounds, conversations held in the dark she could never see but only hear. When she'd passed the torch onto the next warden, she'd slept. And she'd dreamed. No longer could she recall what she'd found in the Fade, but she'd woke to Nathaniel's hand shaking her awake the next morning, his eyes tired with the rising sun behind him. He'd wordlessly handed her a cup of coffee and rubbed her arms twice before wandering off. Then it was only darkspawn, and long days of walking and the regular nightmares that came from disappearing for many nights into the Deep Roads.

Her father paused at the gates, the same dreamy dust clinging to his ragged pants and cloak. Leandra and Carver had both accompanied him and they too paused, expressions blank. Then at once, like they had done for the past year, they faded until only their presence remained, pretty colors in an otherwise dark world. It was how it truthfully should be, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Bethany shook the dust off her long tunic and turned away. The road before her was clear.

The houses she tread past built the perfect image of a sleepy village. She easily imagined faces, laughter, conversations over hot meals in the tall-spired Chantry in the center of town. The barns were brimming full of hay when she passed and she saw Carver and Marian lounging on them, timothy stalks dangling from their mouths. Vendors had opened their stalls for the day and were selling achingly sweet fruit tarts and meat pies; travelers from the Southern Bannorn were dealing in spices and finery, the wares no one could afford but pleased the eye to look at.

In a setting separate and more private from the rest, Bethany imagined something quaint. She saw Leandra sitting with Malcolm in the kitchen of a small, rustic house near the woods, holding his hand and talking amiably while he sat completely and utterly entranced. It was her favorite thing to think upon. While they talked, Bethany saw herself walking the windswept fields, a book open in her arms, following the trail she'd always walked, watching the smoke rise from deep in the southern wilderness—

She blinked fiercely.

It wasn't the memories in her mind anymore that formed these visions. The Lothering she knew was dirtier, scarier. Soldiers cussed and screamed and families ran - darkspawn hot on her heels. Carver running into the kitchen with blood on his clothes. She realized, sadly, that the Fade painted Lothering in better times - an alternate reality. Under all the layers, Lothering was truly dead. The opaque glitter that so persistently stuck to her feet were ashes. The dust on that lonely mountain village she brushed from her robes had been the same.

There was no hope here in the Fade. Just possibilities.

The shadows formed these things. The demons too. Any creature with the ability to sense another knew all she knew, and because this was a dream, nothing was practical. Like the reason why her family's spirits walked with her. She knew them to be dead. Here, they were not. Here, reality could not be defined by the convenient truths she was forced to face everyday.

Bethany didn't miss the one shadow she didn't imagine, slipping out from an alley between two weather-worn houses, as dark as ink. Dark as that night she'd sat watch and waited for something that wouldn't come.

She drew her staff from her back and turned to face her follower.

...o...

"–You're a desire demon, aren't you." It wasn't a question. Eyes too dark for a human face met hers and smiled. The demon wasn't even trying to hide. Usually they were more cautious, waiting for a window, an opportunity to slide in and make their possession. But what was a better calling than loneliness? Bethany thought she'd been too calloused ever since the taint had touched her; maybe she hadn't been cold enough. "You aren't wanted here, Fade creature. Leave." Bethany held her staff threateningly.

The demon inclined her head, horns bobbing. "To answer your question child, I am, but I mean you no harm. Secondly, you are the outcast here. This is my home. You're trespassing, and I don't give out invitations to just anyone. "

"Unlikely," Bethany corrected coldly. She kept her staff close to her heart, where the true truth lay. This demon must have seen it all. It was why she was here now, trying to put her fragile mind at ease. "Demons exist because they envy men. It's been that way for centuries. It's why mages are locked away in towers and templars exist. And Lothering isn't yours - it was a village that belonged to the mortals." Bethany eyed her critically. "Do you envy me?"

Unexpectedly, the demon threw back her head and laughed. The jewels around her neck jingled softly. Her chest rose with each breath. "Would I envy a Grey Warden, a sister with no family? I think not!" Her laughter was delicate, like a child's. "No, I do not envy you, child. I seek only one thing."

"Then what do you want?"

Her smile softened. "You."

Bethany sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. This dream was hers. It would go as she willed it to. Her father was waiting at the gates - she could turn around, right now, run down the road -

"My body is not for your possession." The words were strong enough, but did that even matter? Bethany took several large steps sideways, around the demon. She didn't even waver.

"Oh, but you misunderstand! I wish to give you something. Something you've been... missing. Without, you could say."

"Be quick. My patience is thin tonight. I don't like it when demons read my memories."

The demon smiled again. It was not the smile of a predator, even if the teeth said otherwise. "...You wear your emotions plain across your face, my dear. There's sorrow in your waxy cheeks, your disheveled clothes, worn soles... such a bright light. You used to be happy, you know. But you're not anymore." Her clawed hands extended outward and Bethany stilled. Was she going to touch her? Caress her cheek like all the other demons had? Whisper in her ear that death was not the end?

"I do not need your observations. I can see things well enough on my own, thank you."

"Oh? But you'll listen anyway, because that's what you do. You listen. You decide. You make your own choices." The hand touched her cheek. Bethany didn't let herself flinch but moved her staff between them anyway. "You're mortal. Mortals feel... pain. Love. Distress," the demon hissed out the last with obvious distaste. "Mortals also feel vulnerable. Even when surrounded by others of their kind, they may feel entirely alone. In crowded rooms you've sat and pondered this. That's why you're here. Looking. Dreaming. Wondering. Searching! You've been here before, in your sleep... there's a mark on your mortal heart, you know. I can feel it. Not many can leave once they've been touched, but you... you're different. You know despair. And now you know it again."

_You're different._

"I'm not unfamiliar with that turn of phrase," Bethany whispered. "But... you're correct. People come here to dream. It's the one place where we're all connected. Not just mages, but people. That's why-" _It's why I see them. Why they linger outside the gates. Father. Mother. Carver._

Bethany pinched her arm and glowered at the demon. "Leave my mind be!"

The demon's lips curled into a smile. No matter how she framed her words or touched Bethany's face like she was mortal, her smile was not human. Demons had no right to humanity. They were hungry, jealous creatures. The Maker averted His gaze from them, and so they turned envious of His other children. There were sharp teeth behind those guileless intentions. The demon could recreate Lothering as many times as she liked, frame Bethany a lonely woman and than insert herself as the solution, but this was a dream, and Bethany could always refuse.

But that was what was so disconcerting: the demon was speaking the truth. She was losing ground. At once, she swatted the demon's hand away with her own. Snowflakes formed where her hand swept through the motionless air. She was completely undeterred by Bethany's display of strength.

"So tell me, child, what do you think? You fear being alone, yet I stand before you. Where your family would not follow, I stand beside you now. Do you not want this? Do you not want to be held and comforted and loved?"

Bethany found it difficult to swallow. All of a sudden the touch of another left her aching. How long had it been since she'd been held? Since she'd felt loved? "What I want is to not have to answer any more questions," she said firmly.

The demon frowned. "Your eyes betray your lips. But I won't ask. I'll only act. Is that to your agreement?"

Bethany shivered and stepped back. "Listen, I have no quarrel with you, but I will not bargain with a demon. I want you to leave - before I make you take your leave. And I won't be so gentle this time."

The frown became more severe. But the demon didn't act angered; she looked hurt. Genuinely hurt. Like Carver, whenever he scraped his knees running up the road when they were children. "What have you to lose anymore? I can tell your tired - tired of fighting and denying yourself the companionship you miss. You wish your sister had let you die. You wish the taint had killed you when you cried. You wish the wardens had stabbed you through the heart and not wasted their time with you. I am not here to change your fate - I only wish to convince that loneliness doesn't need to exist here. So allow me to ease the pain. At least for this night," she finished wearily.

Bethany looked at the Black City, so far away. It managed to look even lonelier than she felt.

"See, there." She gripped the demon's hand in hers suddenly and pointed. "That's me. That's how I've felt, every day, for the past year."

The desire demon took the opportunity to grip her hand back. "You were as lonely as I thought. I can sympathize with your plight." Bethany tensed uncomfortably. The urge to move again was making her fingers itch.

"You're a demon. Demon's don't feel remorse," she pointed out hollowly.

She nodded absently. "The Fade is a quiet place. Your people come and go when they please. You don't remember. But I've seen your kind before."

"The Wardens?"

"The tainted."

"Magisters."

"The curse runs in your blood: Magic - and the ones who He disgraced," she hissed suddenly, breaking the gentle facade. Bethany didn't flinch. A connection she hadn't realized was slowly putting itself together in her mind. "You can see why I sympathize. Your kind is not the only kind to have suffered. But you - you bear the weight of several burdens, and yet you come here to dream, knowing others are not so kind. I like that."

"You like that I overcome these burdens."

"Even under the pretense of loneliness," she finished carefully. She released the hand she held to squeeze Bethany's shoulders instead. "So tell me, Grey Warden, Mage, sister, would you deny me now?"

"I-" Bethany swallowed, tried again. "I think-"

"-Don't think. Just act," she encouraged. Her eyes glowed.

The faint taste of ash was suddenly overwhelming. Bethany looked past the demon's head to the Lothering in the Fade. It was not there. There were formless clouds - the black, stormy, wind-swept kind, not the white ones she liked to watch pass overhead - and an outcropping of dark broken rocks where her parents and brother flickered. They were waiting, she realized, for her to return. Leandra waved and knotted her fingers together, her expression scared. Carver and Malcolm seemed to be fighting some invisible battle, taking small steps in her direction, arms waving. They knew the struggle she was waging. They wanted her to make the right choice. And she was going to disappoint them again because she couldn't choose what also wasn't there.

Bethany's arms dropped uselessly to her sides then. This battle was lost before it had even begun. This desire demon wanted her for her strength of heart; when had someone last wanted her for that?

_Them. Your family's supporting you, aren't they? _She tucked the thought away with no small amount of resolve. She had no family.

"I'm asleep right now. This is only a dream. When I wake, will I remember this? I know mages can remember these sorts of encounters, but..."

The demon brushed strands of dark hair away from her face. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. If you wish to, you will. If you don't, then so be it."

Bethany took a deep breath and offered out a shaking hand. She held her staff with the other, warm and thrumming in her fingertips. Birchcore. _Father's._

She'd given into temptation before and survived. This time wouldn't be any different.

...o...

It was an exhaustion with which Bethany woke.

She laid in a daze for several minutes, listening to her people stir and move about. Pots clattered, a fire crackled, tents were taken down, the horses nickered and were attended to with care; the regular routine. Slowly, Bethany's senses began to return. That's right - the Grey Wardens were heading for Amaranthine. After a month spent in Orzammar killing darkspawn, they were to restock in the city and rest up. That meant an inn with – hopefully – clean beds and a change of clothes. And maybe a meeting with the Warden-Commander and an order to take a leave of absence, though everyone knew that was as likely as the return of griffins.

Bethany withdrew her arms from beneath the covers of her bedroll then and pressed her numbingly cold fingers to her lips to warm them. She discovered with an unusual sadness she could not recall what she had been dreaming about. It had to have been something sad then - a nightmare?

Either way, she'd have time on the road to think about it.

She slipped from the comforts of sleep determinedly and stretched in the frigid morning air, watching her breath fog. A quick run of her hands through her hair defeated most of the tangles and she pulled her boots on quickly after that, eager to move. Her armor slipped on over her tunic roughly though – she'd forgotten to straighten it, curse it – and she struggled to get her arms through the wobbly leather straps –

Someone gave it a firm tug and Bethany faced Nathaniel suddenly, who was precariously holding two mugs brimming full of coffee in one hand and his bedroll in the other.

"Oof," she said in greeting. The chain-mail clinked around her waist.

His eyebrows rose and he offered out an occupied hand after a brief analyzing look. "Coffee?" Then, with a softer tone after she'd snapped the complicated buckles into place: "You look tired, darling. Bad night?"

She felt her lips twitch and settle into a frown. It was a normal observation for him to make. There was no reason to feel bitter. She took the mug from his extended palm and shrugged to hide how bothered she was. "Mmmmm. Just... a rough night's sleep, I think. That's all."

"Ah." Nathaniel grimaced sympathetically. He knew her too well, she thought. "The ride shouldn't be a long one today. A runner left at dawn for the city to prepare lodging."

"Oh. Good. I could use a bath."

His eyes scrunched up. "I think we all could. We won't get there if we stand around all morning though, as much as I'd like to stay in my present company." He leaned in and kissed her, unafraid of morning breath. "I'll see you a little later," he murmured - and slipped away like a ghost, presumably to saddle his horse.

Bethany watched him go, the dust rise up in his wake to paint him in a warm, dreamy light. She thought about her dream suddenly, the time before she'd spent on a quiet mountain chasing rumors when she'd awoken to this same treatment. Surely there was a connection there she was missing – the dust, the quiet, some strong feeling of hopelessness, the morning after – but even if there was, there was no time to ponder it. The Grey Wardens had a job to do.

She finished Nathaniel's coffee and made way for preparations.


End file.
